Mistletoe Bay (22 page)

This was going to be their first Christmas in this house, and all together. She liked the idea of waking Christmas morning with all the boys there ripping into their presents. Christmas with just her and her mom wasn't what one would call exciting. Waiting for Jenni to show up with the boys had been the highlight of her mother's and her morning.

She didn't even mind moving out of the only house she had ever known and into this one. The third-floor bedroom was kind of neat and a lot bigger than her old room. Since the room had been nothing but ancient plaster and wide pine flooring, her mother and Jenni had given her permission to do what she wanted on a three hundred-dollar budget.

Three hundred bucks went a long way if you managed it right and did the work yourself. She had painted all the walls and trim using three shades of green and had purchased a real funky shag rug. Retro curtains with a matching comforter completed the look. In the end, she'd had enough cash left over for a really cool lamp and some posters. The white princess furniture of her youth had been sold back in Augusta, and she now had a room she felt comfortable in.

Plus she loved living right on the bay.

But she missed her friends back in Augusta, and her school. She was making new ones here, and then there was Sam, who made up for a lot of things. She knew adjustments had to be made. She was just tired of being the one who always had to make them. Why couldn't
she
watch a movie she wanted to watch once in a while?

She got up and headed for the kitchen to see what was up in there. Maybe she could do something with Hope and Faith besides teach them makeup tricks and talk about hot boys and hotter music. She heard the laughter before she entered the room.

Party time was in the kitchen, and she hadn't even been invited.

She stood in the entryway and watched as her mother instructed Sam's sisters on how to make brownies from scratch. Both girls were hanging on her mother's every word, and her mother had never looked happier. There was a flush to Dorothy's cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat of the oven and everything to do with the man sitting at the counter, shelling walnuts. Eli Fischer was having the time of his life and sitting there as if he belonged.

“No, no, no.” Dorothy laughed. “Keep the beaters in the bowl.” Her mother's arms encircled Faith as she showed the younger girl how to use the mixer.

“How come she gets to use the mixer?” groused Hope.

“Because you got to melt the chocolate, and she didn't.” Dorothy helped Faith with the spatula. “Keep pushing everything into the beaters so it blends nicely. You don't want lumpy brownies, do you?”

“Hey, what's this about lumpy brownies?” Eli popped a nut into his mouth.

“Stop eating them all, Eli, or there won't be enough.” Dorothy grinned at Eli and went back to helping Faith.

Her own mother didn't even see her standing there. She had become invisible, and that wasn't even the worst thing. When her mother smiled at Sam's father, the man had winked back, causing her mother's flush to become more pronounced.

Her mother and Sam's father were flirting with each other. The whole world had gone insane since Thanksgiving.

She turned around, grabbed her coat off the hook by the front door, slipped her feet into her boots, and stepped out onto the front porch. The biting cold and wind made her eyes water as she slowly walked around the side of the house and down the path to the edge of the bay. She loved the bay at night. It was so peaceful and quiet that she headed for her favorite spot: a huge boulder not far from the water's edge.

Using the sleeve of her coat, she brushed off some of the snow and sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, blocking some of the wind. Her finger trembled as she yanked up the collar of her coat and brushed away a tear that was rolling down her check. Damn wind.

A few minutes later she heard Sam coming before she saw him. The snow crunched beneath his boots. He quietly brushed off a spot next to her and sat. “You okay?”

“Fine.” What was she supposed to say—that she was a super-bitch and had a raging case of PMS?

“What's got you upset?” Sam pulled out his gloves from his jacket pocket and handed them to her.

“Nothing, just needed some fresh air.” She slipped on his gloves and felt like a bigger ass.

“Nice night for it.” Sam's voice held sarcasm as he moved forward a couple inches to block the wind from directly hitting her. “You're not going to go all girly on me, Felicity, are you?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Didn't Sam think she was girly enough?

“It means you're not going to make me sit out here freezing my ass off trying to guess what's upsetting you.” Sam's voice softened as he cupped her cheek. “One of the things that I like best about you, Ms. Augusta, is the way you say what you mean, and mean what you say. No mind games.”

Sam used the nickname he'd given her the week they'd met. He had claimed that Felicity couldn't really be shortened, so he had mistakenly called her “Reds.” She hated that nickname and wasn't afraid to let Sam know it. From then on out, he'd called her Ms. Augusta. “I'm just being foolish, Sam.”

“About me?” Sam's warm fingers stroked her chilled face. “You're upset that I put Corey's DVD in? I know we must have watched it a hundred times already, but it was either
Cars
or
Winnie-the-Pooh.
No offense against the big old yellow bear, but I would go insane if I had to sit through another one of his movies. The voice alone makes me want to pick up an ice pick and stab something.”

“I like Pooh.” She rested her cheek in the palm of his hand and smiled.

“I know you do. We'll put in the Pooh movie once this one is over.”

“Not tonight.” She really didn't want to see it again. She wanted to go in to Franklin and cuddle up with Sam over a large tub of popcorn and a gory horror flick.

“You're mad that I was wrestling with Tucker?” Sam dropped his voice into an awful Arnold Schwarzenegger imitation. “I vas showing 'im some moves.”

She pushed his arm. “That's awful.” She tried not to laugh. Only Sam could pull her out of such a deep funk. “Can I ask you a question, without you getting all upset?”

“Sure, wait a minute.” Sam's voice sounded hesitant. “You're not going to ask if you can see other guys, are you?”

“What ever gave you that idea?” She pushed Sam away and tried to read his face in the darkness. She couldn't. There wasn't enough light. “Why in the world would I want to see other guys?”

“Then what's the question?” She could hear the smile in Sam's voice.

“I was just wondering why your father and sisters are always around now. Don't get me wrong, I like your dad and sisters. But they just seem to be at our house all the time now.”

“Your mom was the one to invite them to dinner tonight and to help out babysitting the boys while Jenni and Coop go out.” Sam shrugged. “Besides, my dad loves your mom's cooking.”

“Do you think your dad likes my mom?” She didn't doubt that Eli Fischer loved her mother's cooking. That wasn't the issue here.

“Sure. Your mom's cool.”

“I mean,
like
like. As in like her as a girlfriend? I think they were flirting with each other tonight, and your dad winked at her.” There, she'd said it. The biggest ick factor in her life was now out in the open.

“So what if they were? They're both adults, Felicity.” Sam shook his head. “It's a little strange, I guess, but I have never seen my dad happier.”

Felicity felt her heart sink. Sam didn't get it after all. He had been her last hope of an ally in a world gone crazy.

 

 

Jenni rinsed the bubbles off the plate and handed it to Coop. “This is a beautiful set of dishes.” She loved the dainty violets and greenery on the ivory-colored china, but she didn't think Coop would pick out such a set for himself. Besides, they were antiques and probably could fetch a pretty penny.

“They were my late Aunt Bernice's, my father's sister.” Coop dried the plate and then put it back into its proper place, on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet. “My mom gave the set to me when I moved here from California. She didn't need two sets. She already had her original set of china from when she and dad got married.” Coop glanced around the kitchen and the connecting living room. “She cleaned house, and most of the stuff in here came from her, or some dead relative. Mom's sort of a pack rat, and she packed it all off on me.” Coop shook his head and chuckled. “It saved me a small fortune, but most of it isn't my style.”

“That explains the violets.” It also explained the retro enamel kitchen table with chrome and vinyl chairs. Coop didn't strike her as a retro type of guy. The couch was beige and overstuffed, but the leather recliner looked new and barely broken in. The large-screen television had Coop's name all over it. She could see Coop's everyday brown and dark green dishes on the bottom shelf. She thought it was cute that he wanted to impress her with the “fine china.” “What made you move back from California, your father's health?”

She knew about Fred Armstrong's heart attack and thought it was sweet of Coop, an only child, to move back close to his parents when they needed him. It said a lot about a guy. Ken, though not a mama's boy, cared deeply for his mother, and made sure she had whatever she needed, especially after his father passed away.

“Partly.” Coop frowned as she handed him the next dish to dry.

“What was the other part?” Coop knew all about Ken and how she'd come to inherit his mother and sister. “Did you miss Maine? I'm sure living in southern California was a major adjustment for you.” She loved Maine and had lived here all her life, but there were times when she wondered what it would be like to live somewhere else. One glance out the kitchen window told her tonight just might be one of those times. It had started to snow in earnest about half an hour ago. Big, fat flakes drifted from the skies, covering everything in sight. The Weather Channel was predicting at least a foot by morning.

“That's why I headed for California when I left college. It was the farthest distance I could get by car.”

Coop put away the bowl she had served the potatoes in. Tonight she had baked honey-glazed salmon, garlic mashed potatoes, and a medley of fresh vegetables. Coop had complimented her throughout the meal.

“So why come back?”

“Dad and Mom needed me, and there was nothing left for me in California.”

Getting answers from Coop was like asking Tucker what had happened. “What had been in California for you?” Something must have kept him there for over ten years, besides the constant sunshine and bikini-clad girls on the beach.

“Candace, the woman I lived with for seven years.” Coop reached for the silverware sitting in the drainer. “She worked in advertising, and I did construction work. Met her at a party one night on the beach. We dated for about four months, and then she moved in.” Coop polished the flatware until it gleamed, then dropped it into the drawer next to the sink, one piece at a time.

It sounded like a thousand other love stories to her. So what had gone wrong?

“Mom called one night. Dad had had a heart attack, and they weren't sure he was going to make it. I booked the first flight out of there, kissed Candace goodbye and told her to handle the homefront, and went to be with my mom. Dad pulled through and was back home within two weeks.”

“I like your father and mother. They seem like real nice people.” Fred had really seemed to enjoy himself on Thanksgiving, and Lucy had even sent her a thank-you card for all the Mistletoe Bay products she'd gone home with that night.

“They're the best.”

Which left open the question, why had he dropped out of college and headed for California instead of coming back home? Coop obviously cared for his parents, and they him.

“The whole time I was here pacing hospital hallways, hunting down doctors, and making sure my mother was taking care of herself, I thought. I realized how short and precious life was, and that for the past seven years I had been wasting it. I realized when it was time to ante up your chips in life, the only thing that mattered was family. I wanted a family. I wanted the wife, the kids, the mortgage. I wanted that special someone to be by my side throughout all of life's ups and downs.

“When my father was well enough for me to go home, I bought an engagement ring and flew back to Candace.”

She had a horrible sinking feeling she wasn't going to like the rest of Coop's story.

The sound of a spoon landing in the drawer broke the silence. “It was the classic Hollywood betrayal. I walked into our apartment unannounced with a bouquet of roses, a bottle of champagne, and a diamond ring that the jeweler swore would make any woman say yes.” A second spoon landed in the drawer.

She could barely choke out the next question even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer. “What happened?”

“Candace was entertaining”—a fork landed in the drawer—“my soon-to-be-ex–best friend, Gary, in our bed.”

“Sorry” seemed so inadequate, but what else was left to say? “I'm sorry Candace broke your heart, Coop.” She handed him the saucepan she had been scrubbing. With a soft smile she said, “She was a fool.”

Coop surprised her by grinning. “She didn't break my heart, Jenni. Banged it around a bit, yes; shattered it, no.” He started to dry the pot. “Candace did more damage to my dreams than my heart.”

“Dreams have a habit of changing, growing in a different direction, or just fading away.” She liked the fact that Coop could smile about Candace's betrayal now and that he hadn't turned into some woman-hating grump. “Dreams are fed by life, and life is constantly changing.” She'd learned that one firsthand.